


Rinse and Repeat

by MokuK



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, Family Drama, Gen, Panic Attacks, Short Story, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MokuK/pseuds/MokuK
Summary: Short story written for my Creative Writing class.Jade's dad is getting remarried, and it's only been two years since her mom's death. When her potentially-future-stepmother comes to stay with them, she finds solidarity in the boy that comes with her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> why am i posting this? i don't know, but i suffered until 3 am editing this for my final grade, so i might as well share it. it's actually probably one of the better things i've written.

Jade slams the door and falls onto her bed, groaning into the pillow. She lies there until her lungs protest the need to breathe. The pillow is warm against the back of her head as she stares up at the cracks in the ceiling, connecting lines and dots and raised bumps where it almost leaked but didn’t. Today set a new record. It’s not even four yet, and she’s already argued with her dad three times. One even blew up into full out screaming, at which point her younger brother shut himself up in his own room. She can hear the muffled sounds of him chatting with his friends online while gaming.

“God, shut up,” she mutters, dropping her hands over her face. Her nails dig into her forehead, and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. It doesn’t stop the burning pain in her chest or the pull of her lungs as she holds back the scream that wants to let loose.

She lies there until the dampness against her palms dries, watching the little bursts of light flashing behind her closed eyelids, shifting and disappearing like a kaleidoscope. The desire to chase those lights overwhelms her.

Jade rolls over and grabs her phone from where she dropped it in her rush to reach her pillow. Right as she tucks the earbuds in, she can hear the telltale creak of her dad coming up the stairs. She’s grown so familiar to the sound in the eleven years they’ve lived in this house. She knows how to keep them from creaking, tiptoeing along the edges, something that her parents have never learned and have never needed to learn.

She mutters a quiet “fuck,” feeling the sting of oncoming tears. Parent. Singular. She always forgets these days, even though it’s been nearly two years. All those glossy brochures are liars. Their pitying messages, reassuring her that it gets easier to handle over time. It doesn’t. It just hurts more when she remembers that she almost forgot, which she just can’t do. She’s not allowed to.

The phone shows a list of playlists, each labeled and arranged meticulously. Jade picks one at random and turns the volume up until it hurts her ears. Not loud enough, since she can still hear the knock at the door. There’s a hesitant pause, and then, “Bao bao?”

Her eyes twinge with how hard she presses them shut. She throws her arm over her face so he can’t see anything, and she can’t see him, can’t see the apologetic look on his face she knows is there, the way he keeps trying to smile and move on when she feels so stuck and trapped by everything she could’ve, should’ve, would’ve done. Her bed dips, and there’s a careful hand on her shoulder. “Xin ga-er,” he starts to say, and that’s as far as she’ll let him go. He’s not allowed to call her that. That’s her mother’s nickname for her.

Jade shoves his arm off and rolls over, curling into herself. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she chokes out. “Not today, and probably not tomorrow either.”

He sighs, and she can just picture the way he wipes his hand down his face, the way he does whenever he’s tired from work, hunched over his computer at 11 PM, the way he does when she and her brother get into petty fights.

“Alright,” she hears him say over the pounding bass beating against her eardrums. “But remember that they’re coming next Sunday, and I need you to be at least civil. I know you’re upset, but don’t direct it at her and her son, okay?”

She doesn’t say, _no promises_ , because while she’s angry, she knows that pettiness won’t get here anywhere but more disappointed looks that he thinks she doesn’t see. She doesn’t say anything. He pats her arm awkwardly, and the bed rises as he does.

She opens her eyes and stares at the yellow stain on her window sill from when she threw eggs out her window in second grade and missed miserably. They had all laughed so hard at her expense. Her mom had been trying to hold back giggles as she wiped down the yolk dripping down the wall and her dad had been outside picking up eggshells, laughing so hard that Jade could hear him two stories up and through a closed window. Jade had hidden herself in the bathroom out of embarrassment then, but now she craves those easy days, when the most she had needed to worry about was the smell of egg every time she opened the curtains.

\------------------------------------------

Her dad had met this woman about eight months ago, online. They’d started with chatting, later graduating to video calls, and now she was coming here from China. All Jade knew about her was that she had been divorced for three years now and that she had a son about Jade’s age.

They’re standing by the baggage claim, the stifling summer heat soothed by the constant flow of too-cold air conditioning. She’s surrounded by over a hundred people, none of whom are the ones they’re looking for. There’s a herd of college boys huddled around the carousel, all similarly dressed in sweatshirts over flannels, messily topped with snapbacks. A middle-aged woman is snapping at her husband and children, full-body gesturing for them to hurry up. The husband trails behind her, laughing as one little boy hangs off an arm and the other latches onto a leg.

Watching them, Jade feels something hit her like a well-aimed kick to her chest. This is actually happening. Her dad is actually getting remarried to an actual woman who’s more than just a blurry face on a computer screen. She curls her nails into her palm, digging in until they go numb.

She only releases them when her dad leans in close and points somewhere to their left, over the sea of heads. “There they are. Let’s help them get their bags.” Jade nods absently, glancing down to see the bruised grooves carved into her skin.

As they maneuver through the crowd, she notices a woman with long black hair that’s braided and draped over her shoulder, arms linked with a teenage boy that must be her son. When her eyes land on Jade’s dad, her eyes light up and she beams, freeing a hand from her bright green carry-on suitcase to wave. Jade’s dad waves back.

They meet them halfway, by the carousel. The five of them stand in silence, Jade’s dad and the woman smiling awkwardly without knowing what to say, and the three kids caught in the middle looking everywhere but at each other.

Jade’s dad stutters as he asks her how the flight was. She laughs and replies that it was okay, but very long. The rudimentary amount of Chinese that Jade’s learned over the past eight years of half-assing Chinese school only helps her understand half of what they chat about as they wait for the bags to come around.

In the meantime, Jade side-eyes her son. He’s about four inches taller than her, hair long enough that it’s past the spiky stage and is actually lying flat. His hands brush up and down his thin sweater before finally settling in his jean pockets. Their eyes meet, and she nods, smiling tightly. He nods back, then looks up and away again.

The two parents return shortly with two large suitcases. The woman turns to Jade and her brother, while Jade’s dad turns to the woman’s son. “Hello, my name is Li Yuan,” she says in accented English. “You two must be Jade and Christopher. I’ve heard so much about you from your father. I hope we can get to know each other. This is my son,” she says, turning to gesture at the boy, who’s curled into himself like he wants to be here just as much as Jade does. She feels a pang of sympathy. He looks like he’s enjoying this as much as she is. “Chen Ling-Feng.”

“Call me Lynn,” he mutters, scuffing his feet against the linoleum tiles.

Jade smiles politely and says a quiet hello, ignoring the swirling mess gathering in her stomach. Her eyes drift off to the runways, filled with planes rolling across the tarmac in neat and orderly lines.

\------------------------------------------

In three days’ time, it’s going to be the second anniversary of her mother’s death. Jade glances at her watch again for the fifth time in ten minutes, willing her history teacher to wrap up the causes of the Cold War. She can’t exactly talk to her dad about it, not when he’s the picture of domestic bliss with Li Yuan. He’s been leaving the house more often for “getting to know you” dates, dressed up nicely and laughing on his way out. Her brother’s in eighth grade, at the peak of emotional immaturity and more likely to avoid than confront grief.

The bell screeches, jolting everybody out of their seats and out the door. She runs to her locker to drop of the extra weight, and heads down to the side entrance where Lynn is probably already waiting. For the past month and a half since they started school together, Lynn has consistently made it there before she has, much to his amusement and her irritation.

Sure enough, he’s leaning against the pole, scrolling through his phone without a care in the world when she approaches. He takes one look at her and shoves the phone in his pocket. “Let’s go to the park. We can do homework there since it’s still warm out.”

Jade doesn’t argue. There’s a redness to his eyes that mirrors the same ones she saw in her own in the bathroom mirror after fourth period. They walk side by side, a leaf drifting along the current of a torrent. They don’t say anything until they reach a bench, throwing their backpacks onto the carpet of fallen leaves. They both pull out their homework and it’s quiet except for the scratch of pencil on paper and the cars driving by.

“My mom used to try to go full out for Halloween, but she’d just buy pumpkins that we’d keep on our porch until December and prop up some old scarecrows that we’ve had since I was five,” Jade says, when the silence becomes stifling instead of comforting. “I keep expecting to see this old plastic bucket we used to hand out candy by the doorway, but it’s still in the basement because she wasn’t there to take it out. Last year we just threw candy in a bin and set it outside.”

"Sometimes I miss my father,” Lynn begins when she pauses. “He was a terrible man and a terrible husband, but he was an okay father. I didn’t know about his faults until I was old enough, but when I was younger, we used to make moon cakes together for the Mid-Autumn Festival, because he had learned how from his mother, who learned from her mother. He would let me choose which fillings I wanted to put in, and if they came out poorly we would go out and buy them. If he found one with two yolks inside, he would let me have it.”

Jade sets her Spanish homework down, bringing her legs up onto the bench. “We could try doing that, if you’d like. I know this one person that makes her own every year.”

Lynn smiles at her, leaning against the back of the bench. She follows, watching the clouds as they slowly drift across the sky. “That would be nice. And I can help you decorate for Halloween too.”

“We could go pumpkin picking next weekend?”

“And dig out those scarecrows,” Lynn says, turning to look at her as both their heads hang over the metal rails. His eyes aren’t red anymore, and his smile looks crooked but genuine at this angle.

\------------------------------------------

Jade stumbles through the doorway, eager to throw her sweaty practice clothes into the laundry and take a nap before doing anything else. The season’s only just started, but her coach is already working the team to the bone. “Varsity isn’t just a level, girls,” she mutters under her breath in a crude impression of Coach Torrence. “it’s a discipline.”

“Welcome home.”

Jade starts, tripping over her shoes. When she looks up, Li Yuan is standing by the stove, chopping a pile of broccoli and zucchini and mushrooms. “Oh. I’m home,” Jade says, shifting from foot to foot. She grips the strap of her bag tighter. “I was just about to head up.”

“Would you like me to make you something to eat?” Li Yuan says, every inch the perfect mother.

Jade shuffles closer to the doorway leading to the stairs. “No, it’s fine. I have a lot of homework, so I can just wait until dinner to eat.”

“Oh no, I insist.” Li Yuan begins to reach for the fridge door. “I made some fried rice for your brother earlier that I can microwave.”

“ _Really_ , it’s fine,” Jade insists, inching closer to the base of the stairs. “I’m not that hungry. I ate enough before practice”

Li Yuan sighs, letting go of the door handle. “I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready then?”

“Thanks,” Jade calls down as she runs up the stairs. There’s a wedding magazine lying innocuously on one of the steps, and now she’s not in the mood for anything. Her stomach drops, but her feet propel her to her room before she processes it.

When she reaches her room, she throws her bag to the ground and tugs on her headphones, turning up the music until it hurts. She needs to take off her sweaty clothes first. Then she can think about it. Or even better, put it off until after a shower and calc homework. Then she can work on that essay for Spanish lit due Monday and maybe she won’t pull another all-nighter like she did Tuesday. By that point, she won’t need to think about it at all.

The sweat down her back is cooling. It’s just gross and sticky and cold now that she’s not running from base to base. She slips into the closet and closes the door behind her, shrugging off all her practice clothes and tossing them in the corner. She shivers, shrugging on an old t-shirt and a flannel along with some sweatpants.

Her breathing’s coming shallower, shorter, quicker, but she doesn’t want to let it overwhelm her just yet. If she keeps doing things, maybe it’ll stay away, maybe she’ll be able to ignore it for another month.

Jade shuts the closet door behind her, grabbing her bag and emptying its contents on her bed. She flips through her binder to find the calc assignment, but her chest is aching and there’s a lightness in her head.

Her legs fall out under her, and she lands on Lynn’s mattress. He must still be with his English tutor, she thinks absently. She presses her forehead to the cool wooden bedframe, grasping at her chest. Breathe in for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four, rinse and repeat. There’s air coming in and going out, but it seems stuck halfway down her throat, rebelling against every instinct in her that screams for her to _breathe_.

She can’t, and she’s scared, she’s so scared she wheezes even faster, and she just wants it to be over. She doesn’t want to think about Li Yuan or her homework or dealing with graduation or what comes next, but it all comes flooding through like a broken dam.

There’s a hand on her back now, moving in circular motions. Someone takes her hand away from where it’s been grasping at her shirt and presses it against warm skin. She feels a light rhythm beating beneath her palm. “Here, follow me,” someone says. “In, and out, and in, and out.”

She shakes her head, tasting warm salty tears. Her breath leaves her in a wavering shudder as she tries to let out as much air as possible. She doesn’t know how many times she keeps at it, but her chest begins to loosen and her head still throbs, but it’s no longer overwhelming her.

“Thanks,” she says, still resting her cheek against the bedframe.

“Are you okay?” Lynn says. She glances up, taking in the wide eyes and pursed lips. “This is the second time this week this has happened.”

She lifts her shoulders and lets them fall. “I will be.” They sit there in silence, until she tells him, “I ran into your mom on my way in. She just offered me something to eat and I just wanted to change and take a shower. And then on my way up, I saw that wedding magazine, and there were so many sticky notes in it.”

Lynn hums in understanding. He sits on the mattress by her side and settles his chin on his knees. “My mom asked me how I felt about officially joining your family yesterday.”

“And? What’d you say?” Jade asks, compelled by curiosity and a sliver of dread.

“I told her that I liked your dad, that he’s been nicer to her than mine. That I get along with you, even if I don’t know your brother that well.”

Jade shrugs. “That’s fair.”

Lynn pushes himself up to his feet. “Even if they do get married, it still probably won’t be for a while. We can worry about it then. Let’s do some homework before my mom calls us down for dinner.”

Jade climbs onto her bed while Lynn takes over the desk. She grabs her headphones from where they’d fallen and slips them back over her ears. The music slams against her eardrums, and she winces, turning the volume down. She doesn’t need to drown anything out right now.

It’s soft enough that she can hear Li Yuan calling them downstairs for dinner an hour later, when she’s in the middle of derivatives. She slips down the stairs, Lynn by her side.

Li Yuan smiles down at her bowl when she sees the two of them sitting together. She shares a look with Jade’s dad that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jade and Lynn. They look at each other, then down at their rice in unspoken agreement.

\------------------------------------------

Jade’s graduation celebration is interrupted by her dad's inability to determine the right time or place to make announcements. They’re taking a break at home before they head to her friend Noah’s house for a celebratory dinner with a couple other friend’s families. She hasn’t even taken off her graduation gown when her dad ushers them all into the living room.

“We need to be at Noah’s by five, Dad,” Jade complains as he nudges her past the threshold.

“It’ll only take a moment,” he promises, gesturing for her to sit on the couch.

She sprawls across the armrest while Lynn flops down next to her, slumping so far down the couch it looks like he’s lying on it instead of sitting. Li Yuan shoots him a look, and he inches a little further up. Jade’s brother lounges on the other side of the couch, eyes fixed on the phone looking as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Jade almost envies him, but then middle school was also probably the worst, so she doesn’t really.

Her dad and Li Yuan take a seat on the couch facing them. He clears his throat. Jade silently offers a hand, resting on the couch palm up. Lynn takes it and squeezes. She hopes he can’t feel the way the tremor in her leg is running through her body.

“Now, Li Yuan and I have some very special news to share with you,” her dad starts. Lynn’s grip on her hand tightens.

“Yes,” Li Yuan chimes in. “We have decided to that we will be getting married, and that we’ll be planning our wedding for four months from now. We have already found the perfect location and have hired a wedding planner to help us with the process. The two of us would love it if you three would be willing to play a role in the wedding as well.”

“Of course, we can figure that out later,” Jade’s dad interrupts. “Right now, the star of the show is Jade. We’ll be heading out to that dinner in half an hour, okay?

Jade nods, trying to force her face into a smile. “Congratulations,” she says. Her throat feels like it’s on fire.

Lynn still hasn’t let go of her hand, clamped around her fingers like a vice. “We’re so glad the two of you are happy together.” It’s not a lie, Jade knows that much. She’s relieved that one of them is better at handling a response to that.

She tugs on his hand, and he trails after her up to their room. They’re silent as she unzips the black shapeless graduation gown and tosses it at the foot of her bed. He’s sitting on the mattress, leaning against Jade’s bedframe. She unpins the graduation cap from her hair and sets it down on the desk, careful not to disturb the mountain of decorations glued to the top. She leaves him on the mattress as she changes in the closet, closing the door behind her. All she changes into is a simple button-down and slacks before joining him on the mattress.

“I guess it’s finally happening,” she says.

Lynn nods, humming softly.

“I mean, we’ve known this was coming since we saw that magazine. Hell, we’ve probably known since we met at the airport,” she continues, unable to stop.

He reaches over and holds her hand. This time, it’s her turn to crush his hand. “Yeah,” is all he says, leaning over and resting his head on the top of hers. She leans into him, pressing her ear to his shoulder.

“I do actually like your mom, you know. She’s nice, and she’s good for my dad, and she’s a pretty good cook. Not the same, I mean, but that’s a given. It’s just that—“

“It still feels a little like poking an open wound,” he says. “I know. I don’t miss my father. I’m glad he’s gone, but it’s been just me and my mother for all these years. It feels…weird.”

Jade turns her face, pressing her nose against his bony shoulder. “An open wound sounds about right. I just hate the feeling that I’m replacing my mom with yours, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Yeah,” he says.

There’s a sudden burst of laughter from outside the door. Jade recognizes it as her dad’s. “They’re good for each other. I haven’t heard my dad this happy in a long while.”

“Same goes for me,” Lynn says, holding out his free hand at a distance and staring at it. “They’re really happy together.”

He squeezes her hand tight. She squeezes back. They sit there in silence. Jade’s eyes wander over to the fluorescent green numbers of her alarm clock. 3:57. She can hear their parents talking downstairs. Her brother is next door, still playing video games. Every few minutes or so, he’ll crow in victory or disappointment, talking strategy with his friends. A dog barks, muffled through the window. There’s the roar of a motorcycle speeding down the road.

Eventually they’ll need to get up and get out of the house. They’ll need to accept congratulations from anybody that hears the news tonight. They’ll need to smile and reply. But until then, they don’t need to do anything but hold onto each other and understand.


End file.
